And Now, Time Travel

by Christopher Brimmage

  The Pink One is like the yin to the Blue One’s yang. The Blue One is a cosmic incarnation of Life, and was held in captivity alongside the Pink One on Earth 1,000,000 until being freed by Normal-Art in novel Art for the Sake of Art. After the Blue One was freed, it engaged in a cosmic war with the Pink One, during which Drillbot was the Blue One’s most trusted general, pitting him against Regular-Ginny in cosmic battle after cosmic battle.

  The Blue One also takes the form of a cosmic teddy bear, though it is blue. Coincidentally, it is also a version of Normal-Art originating from the center of the Multiverse.

  6 Ginny had lost an eye, lost the flesh covering one of her arms, and been run through by a sword. These wounds had never healed until she was resurrected from the Ninth Circle of Hell by God-Art in the novel The Endless War That Never Ends.

  Chapter 7

  ROBOTIC ANGST AND ROBOTIC FOREGIVENESS

  Drillbot felt out of place on this ship from the moment he had rolled aboard. He was entirely too large. Whenever he rolled down a hallway, others often had to press themselves against the walls to let him pass. The blades jutting out from the spokes of his wheels had gouged scratches into many a wall in places where hallways narrowed, and he feared it was only a matter of time before he accidently cut through the fleshy legs of a crew member in some too-narrow passage.

  The oily cherry atop the out-of-place-robot-sundae came during the B.T.T. licensing. After Art had screamed until he fainted, the older version of Art accepted his license with similar screams, though he had managed to remain conscious. Ginny received her license without fear and without a single cry of pain. She merely grimaced. Her expression caused vivid memories to flash through Drillbot’s processors of the war that she and he had waged upon one another for a decade. His drills spun to life out of instinct.

  Drillbot rolled forward and would have stabbed her to death in vengeance for his murdered love—the beautiful, ferocious Ginny Rex7, whom Ginny had obliterated in battle—but Ginny glanced up, and her fleshy eyes locked with his telescopic eyes. Images of her while in service to the Pink One flashed into his processors, remaining there to allow an analysis comparing it to her present form. As he compared past-pink-blob-covered-Ginny with current-Ginny, Drillbot perceived none of the malice or anger or rage that had been constantly present in her eyes during their decade spent battling one another. Something about her present form elicited a sense of calm and kindness—the opposite of what he had encountered while she was the right hand of the cosmic entity bent on destruction of the Multiverse. He found that he could not bring himself to murder her, at least not without further investigation into who she had become and how responsible she had been for her actions while under the sway of the Pink One. He halted the spinning of his drills.

  Drillbot’s moment of rage and his decision for mercy had occurred over less than a couple seconds’ time, so he glanced at the others in the group to see if any had noticed. None looked at him with the fear that would be present in their eyes if they knew that he had been about to murder one of them. He shrugged.

  First Officer Alex stepped over and slapped Drillbot’s license onto his torso. There was no skin to melt over the plastic to hold it in place. The card merely tumbled away and clattered to the metal floor. Drillbot stared down at his portrait and noted inanely that the license picture made him look rotund.

  First Officer Alex retrieved the card from the floor and slapped it on Drillbot’s chest again, and again it fell to the ground. Alex frowned. He picked up the card once more.

  “[whir] Drillbot does not – CLACK – does not think this is going to work.”

  Alex chewed on the end of one of his golden strands of hair, lost in thought. After a few moments, his eyes lit with an idea. He trotted back over to the teal-shirted old bureaucrat, chatted with her, and returned holding a second object in his hand. It was a red, heart-shaped magnet emblazoned with golden cursive lettering that spelled Earth 3,434 is for lovers.

  Alex held the license against Drillbot’s torso with one hand and placed the magnet atop the license with his other. It stuck in place. But a dull, throbbing pain developed in Drillbot’s chest just below the magnet. If he were human, then the location of the pain would likely cause him to be concerned about a heart attack. Fortunately for Drillbot, he was not human, so he need not worry about such misfortune.

  “[whir] The magnet causes discomfort to Drillbot. Is this – CLACK – is this license necessary?”

  Alex furrowed his brows at Drillbot as though the robot had asked the stupidest question he had ever heard. “It’s absolutely necessary,” said Alex. “The license shows everyone that you are here legally, so they know not to detain you. It also gives you access to most levels of the ship, allows you to order food and drinks from the mess hall and the pub, lets you use the computer terminals in the hallways, and permits you to use the uniform machines if you need fresh clothing.”

  Drillbot frowned his version of a frown: his mouth-speaker retracted slightly, his telescopic eyes vibrated, and the radar dishes on top of his head wobbled. Drillbot stared down at his body. He needed neither food nor drink, his drills would not allow him to use a computer, and he was unlikely to fit into any uniform even if he desired to wear one. He felt like one of the robot-fish from Earth 103,522 flopping around outside one of that reality’s many black oil-oceans. But he was a guest on this ship, and he did not think further complaints concerning the magnet-license-combo would get him anywhere, so he nodded acceptance and said nothing more about it.

  On the first day following the licensing, he explored the areas of the ship to which he had access. He found that most areas which were off-limits to him were not off-limits because he was forbidden to enter them, but rather because he could not fit into them. He was so tall and so broad that there were many decks whose ceilings were so low or halls so narrow that he could not disembark from the elevator even if he ducked as low as he could possibly duck or contorted himself as much as he could possibly contort. He could have used his drills to tunnel his way through these hallways, but he refrained from doing so because his hosts might perceive such actions as rude and disruptive.

  Before long, Drillbot stopped by Normal-Art’s quarters to see if the man wanted to join him in exploring the ship, but his former master refused to answer the door, instead yelling in a whiny voice for whoever was outside to go away. Older-Art’s snores could be heard echoing from within his cabin, so Drillbot decided to let the man sleep. Eventually, after he explored enough of the ship to feel satisfied for the day, Drillbot returned to his cabin and lost himself in thought.

  Drillbot missed Ginny Rex terribly. The dull pain of the magnet was nothing compared to the deep, dark longing in his processors for the tyrannosaurus rex. When he was alone in his cabin, he spoke her name to the ether over and over. He replayed memories of her in his mind’s eye. He could almost feel her scratchy tongue rub against his metal hide as he remembered her kisses. He could almost feel her tiny arms stroking his back as he remembered her spooning him.

  And just when he was fully and completely lost in his memories, a knock on his door jolted his mind into the present, and the reality of Ginny Rex being dead and gone overwhelmed him.

  Drillbot rolled slowly to the door and opened it. Standing in the doorway was Older-Art, a frown on his face. The man now wore a purple-shirted uniform that actually fit him. “Drillbot, what’s going on with you? You haven’t left your room for four days,” he said.

  Drillbot did the internal calculations and realized that Older-Art was right. “[whir] Drillbot did not realize that time had – CLACK – that time had passed by so quickly. Drillbot was – CLACK – was thinking.”

  Older-Art shrugged. “Dunno what you could be thinking about for four days straight. That would bore me to death.”

  Drillbot’s eyes vibrated and his radar dishes wobbled. “[whir] Drillbot was remembering the one he loved.”

  Older-Art furrowed his brows. “Hmmm. I never realized y
ou could fall in love.” Older-Art looked Drillbot up and down before continuing, “Who’s this lucky person? Or robot? Or, y’know, whatever you’re into.”

  A short, nearly inaudible, pained screech emanated from Drillbot’s speaker. Then he said, “[whir] It was a surprise to – CLACK – to Drillbot when it happened. Drillbot did not know his processors possessed the capability for – CLACK – for attraction, let alone for love. Her name was Ginny Rex. Drillbot met her – CLACK – met her during the war, and it was love at first – CLACK – at first sight.”

  Older-Art frowned. “Wait. Did you say her name was Ginny? Like, you fell in love with another version of my Ginny?”

  Drillbot nodded. “[whir] She was the most beautiful, kindest, sweetest individual – CLACK – individual Drillbot has ever met. Drillbot would gaze into her reptilian eyes as long – CLACK – as long as time would allow between battles. Drillbot loved it when she would hold his drills in her – CLACK – in her tiny hands and press her gigantic body against his metal hide.”

  Older-Art arched an eyebrow. “Reptilian eyes? Tiny hands? Gigantic body?”

  “[whir] She was the queen of – CLACK – of Earth 975,571.”

  Older-Art’s eyebrow arched even higher. “OK. Well, that still doesn’t explain the reptilian eyes and tiny hands and gigantic body.”

  Drillbot pictured her in his mind’s eye. “[whir] She was the most beautiful tyrannosaur in the entire – CLACK – entire Multiverse. Drillbot would sacrifice anything just to speak with her again. Her kisses would – CLACK – would leave Drillbot’s processors roiling, her cuddles would – CLACK – would leave Drillbot in a peace he never knew possible, and her climaxes would – CLACK – would leave whatever dimension we were on quaking.”

  As Drillbot spoke of Ginny Rex, Older-Art’s face transformed from pitying to disgusted. “Drillbot, maybe next time you keep that last part to yourself?”

  Drillbot’s telescopic eyes rotated as they focused on Older-Art’s face. Drillbot petted the top of Older-Art’s head with his drill. The gigantic metal appendage, however, was large and unforgiving, so Older-Art cried out in pain. “[whir] Drillbot will not. Mating is a natural – CLACK – a natural part of life. Ginny Rex was never ashamed, and Drillbot – CLACK – Drillbot will not dishonor her memory by being ashamed – CLACK – by being ashamed, either. Maybe if Art took better care of himself, he could – CLACK – he could find someone with whom he could mate.”

  Older-Art frowned for a moment, but then he seemed to remember something and smiled. “Don’t worry about me on that account, old friend. There’s someone coming my way soon.

  Older-Art continued, “But forget about me. I’ve gotta say, you’re so much more layered than I ever thought you would be. I mean, I created you on a whim with literally no planning.”

  Drillbot internalized the words, but his processors provided no proper response, so he nodded and stood in silence.

  Older-Art frowned. He said, “Look, while you were sitting in here by yourself the last few days, my younger-self and Ginny got back together and are around each other all the time, which means I need somebody to hang out with. I can’t watch them constantly fondling one other. I’m going to scream.”

  Again, Drillbot said nothing. He merely nodded.

  Older-Art grabbed Drillbot by the drill and tugged on the robot. “C’mon,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

  Older-Art tugged on the drill again, but Drillbot did not move. Older-Art said, “Look, buddy, I thought of something I want to show you. C’mon. It’ll be a surprise.”

  “[whir] Drillbot does not feel like – CLACK – like leaving this room just now. Drillbot wants to be alone with his thoughts.”

  Older-Art frowned. “Look, just trust me, OK? I promise you that this will be the best thing you’ll see on this entire ship.”

  Drillbot sighed. The sooner he appeased this fleshy being, the sooner he could return to his thoughts of Ginny Rex. “[whir] Very well. Lead the – CLACK – Lead the way.”

  *

  Drillbot followed Older-Art to an elevator bank, and after waiting in line for their turn, the duo took the elevator to the thirteenth deck. Once the elevator door slid open, Older-Art grabbed Drillbot by the drill and led him into the corridor.

  The duo walked straight for a few minutes and then turned right down a side hallway.

  CLANG! Drillbot’s head crashed into a low ceiling. Though it did not hurt him, he sighed in frustration at yet another area with a ceiling too low for him to enter. Drillbot ducked as low as he could and rolled forward once more. He was still too tall. His wheel-daggers scraped into the wall, too, and he realized that even if he were not too tall, he would be too wide.

  Older-Art stopped and looked back at Drillbot. “Sorry, buddy,” he said. “I sometimes forget you’re so big. We can find a different route.”

  Older-Art backtracked to a computer terminal set in the hallway from which they had just come. Older-Art pressed his chest against the terminal, and it sprang to life. He glanced over at Drillbot, smirked, and then leaned forward so that his body blocked the terminal from view and the surprise remained secret. His fingers flew across the screen, and a few moments later, he said, “Got it. It’ll take us a bit longer, but we’ll get there. You won’t be disappointed, believe me.”

  Older-Art grabbed Drillbot once more by the drill and led him back the way they had come. They waited in line for the elevator, and when it was their turn, they took the car three decks below to the tenth deck.

  They emerged in another seemingly identical corridor with a different color of paint on the walls, but this time, they followed it much, much farther than the one on the thirteenth deck. By Drillbot’s calculations, they were nearing the rear of the ship before Older-Art led them left down a side hallway to a thin, winding staircase. “I take it stairs aren’t a problem for you?” called Older-Art over his shoulder.

  “[whir] No.”

  Drillbot’s motor roared and he sped up the stairs ahead of Older-Art, his processors adjusting his wheel mobility to account for the stairs. When he reached the top, he turned to watch Older-Art ascending the stairs. The man had an awed look on his face. Gouges and jagged metal lay in Drillbot’s wake where his wheel-daggers had torn through the handrail supports when they narrowed too thinly.

  Drillbot muttered, “[whir] Drillbot did not intend to cause this damage. Drillbot is sorry.”

  Older-Art smiled. “No need to apologize to me. I’m all in favor of destroying whatever you want on this ship. The crew kidnapped me, so any opportunity for revenge without compromising the mission that will get me home is a job well done.”

  Older-Art led Drillbot down another nearly identical corridor. Crew members dodged out of their way and pressed themselves up against walls to avoid Drillbot’s deadly wheel-daggers. The pair traveled down this corridor for nearly eight minutes. The corridor stretched farther on until it disappeared around a bend, but Older-Art stopped them when another staircase appeared on their right. This one was much larger and seemed to be a major thoroughfare on the ship, since it was covered in all manners of purple- and marigold- and teal-shirted B.T.T. agents rushing up and down on seemingly important business. Drillbot and Older-Art joined the wave of people ascending the staircase.

  The top of the staircase opened onto a huge atrium the size of a warehouse. In its center sat a behemoth of a fountain. The top of the fountain was shaped like a clock. Water cascaded from each of the numbers on the clockface and poured down onto a ring of hundreds of humanoid men and women, each sitting in a chair that looked like Captain King Solomon’s chair on the bridge. Drillbot recognized one of the men in the ring of people as Captain King Solomon, and he grunted. The Captain looked much less dignified with water flowing across his face. At the base of the fountain lay an inscription in golden letters that read, “Time flows across us all. Dedicated to the individuals who keep it flowing in the correct direction.”

  Older-Art sighed. He said, “Every time
the ship gets a new captain, a sculpture of ‘em is added to the ring of captains. This place is called the Captain’s Ring—which isn’t very clever, if you ask me—and it’s the exact center of the ship. And that’s yet another useless piece of information about this place that’s clogging up my brain when it could be filled with delightful episodes of whatever stupid show happens to be playing on my television back home.”

  The scene behind the fountain reminded Drillbot of the home of the bee people on Earth 91,306. During the war between the cosmic pink and blue bears, it had taken the Army of Life quite some time to locate the Art and Ginny there to recruit into their army, since the entire earth consisted of nearly identical human-sized bees scrambling to-and-fro in a gigantic hive that stretched across the entire planet.

  The circular atrium at the center of the B.T.S. Unicorn Husker rose nearly eight decks tall, and hallways intersected the walls nearly everywhere Drillbot looked. Each hallway had a red number above it to identify the corridor. Wheeled ladders zoomed around the walls. Drillbot watched crew members type numbers into keypads attached to the base of these ladders and climb aboard. The ladders then lifted them to the proper height and raced around the walls to drop them off at the corridor that corresponded with the numbers they typed into the keypads.

  Older-Art led Drillbot to a queue and they waited their turn, at which time Older-Art typed a number into a keypad, stepped onto a rung of the ladder, and instructed Drillbot to do the same. Drillbot frowned in annoyance. He had no feet with which to step aboard the ladder, so he instead hooked his arms around the rungs nearest him. As soon as he was in position, Older-Art pressed a blue button on the ladder. It lifted two floors into the air and then rolled around the wall until it reached a corridor with a red numeral forty-three above it. Another ladder zoomed toward them from the opposite direction, and just when Drillbot thought they would crash, the other ladder leaned backward and passed around them.